


Scent of Sand and Trees

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [22]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, akificlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt:   p!atd and teenwolf NO, I AM NOT BEGGING FOR SPENCER/STILES KINKYTIEMS, NOT AT ALL. (because spencer isn’t the toppiest, no never.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scent of Sand and Trees

Stiles was making the most of his college experience. That’s what he told himself every hangover, every time he woke up in someone else’s bed and had to turn the walk of shame into the strut of success back to his own dorm in time for breakfast. The fact the he never woke up beside the same person twice was just part of the experience. He’d told himself that so often now he almost believed it.

He chose this campus, in the middle of the desert, to try and get as far away as he could from the cool green forests of Beacon Hills. But Scott, his stupid wonderful brother from another mother, just sent the forest to him, in emails and even honest-to-god letters, written in his chickenscratch scrawl.

Stiles was no werewolf, but he swore he could smell the forest in the paper, under the ink. But that was the problem, wasn’t it.

Stile was no werewolf. He was just the boy who ran with wolves until the pack closed ranks and left the interloper behind.

So here he was, surrounded by heat and rock and sand, mouth always too-dry from the desert air, waking up beside whoever would let him close for an hour or two. But when the itch for green and grey and trees and clouds got too much, Stiles picked up his phone and sent the text.

_can i come over?_

Spencer had his own problems. Stiles hoped it wasn’t werewolves, because that would just be too much of a coincidence. But whatever it was had left the same spreading hole inside that Stiles felt whenever he thought of home, of the pack that didn’t want him anymore. They didn’t even talk much, Spencer grabbing Stiles and pulling him in only to slam him up against the back of the door, mouth hot and teeth sharp. He demanded like it was his right, and Stiles gave him everything like it was in endless supply.

Spencer didn’t mind that Stiles mumbled out a different name into his skin as he came. Stiles never cared that Spencer cried out for another boy as he slammed Stiles into the mattress. All that mattered, all he cared about, was being able to give it all to someone who actually wanted to take what he offered. Spencer demanded and Stiles surrendered until neither of them remembered any names at all, and all Stiles could smell was sweat and sex and come.

The only time Spencer was gentle was when he put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, the small of his back, as he walked Stiles to the door. Stiles never said anything like ‘so long’ or ‘see you around.’ They both knew he’d be back the next time he thought he caught scent of the forest.


End file.
